I’m bored with food, even when I’m hungry.  There is nothing that I crave, no food that I’m in the mood for.  The taste is bland, and no amount of spices can make it any better.  I cried tonight because I looked at a piece of fish after not eating for seven hours and nothing about it excited me.  It was a piece of wild caught salmon, food that used to satisfy my soul, and now it’s just a piece of dead fish lacking flavor that I feel so sorry for.  It has given its life to sustain me, and I can’t even appreciate it.  I look for food to satisfy me, to somehow fill this empty space, but it just doesn’t seem to do the trick.

I am so sad.  I realized tonight that I live between two worlds – the one in which I cry and get overpowered by feelings, and the one where I don’t feel much.  I weave in and out of these worlds, making the switch in my sub-conscious mind.  There is no choosing.  It chooses me.  While I’m in one world, the other one seems far away.  The world of my past in which I used to look forward to the next day, where I used to laugh and feel light, that world seems to have disappeared altogether.  I’m left with the memory and the hope that someday I will return there.

I write from a place of grief.  I write to relieve some of these feelings, to transcribe what goes on the inside to the world outside.  I write to share and to touch those places that lack emotion.  But as I read my posts once the switch is made from one world to the other, I feel completely detached, as if it was someone else who wrote those words, who exposed themselves so nakedly.  I listen to people express their sorrows for my grief and look at them, wanting so badly to console them.  I want to say, “Don’t be sorry.  Don’t feel sad.  I’m not.”  And I mean it in my mind, for sorry is not what I feel when feelings are not present.  But then I go home and I try to make dinner and I look at a piece of fish and feel sorry.  I feel sad for the fish, for the world, for myself.

When I’m numb, I long to feel.  When I feel, I crave numbness.  I’m lost in a sea of suffering and I want to find my way out.  I pray for it to end.  I’m trying to keep everything together but feel myself coming apart at the seams.  I want to run and hide but there is nowhere I can go where I won’t find myself.

I’m slowly melting down…


4 thoughts on “Meltdown

  1. Ania, you speak from the real and we who hear you appreciate immersing in your truth and sharing that which seems so unbearable. I will keep my comments brief to simply posit that water that seems to be part of your idiom here, is unique in its transcendent forms. Sometimes fluid and enlivening all life, other times ice hard and forbiddingly cold. And yet water can also osmose into steam and seemingly disappear right in front of our eyes. Yet water, in all its forms as well as all the individual drops of rain, the teardrops and even the blood or the chlorophyll that it individualizes as, eventually, eventually it will return to union. The rain will fall and water all the plants of the planet and join streams and rivers to return to the sea where it again will evaporate up into the sky to form rain again. All in good time…and with the trust in shape shifting as a means of tolerance, inclusion and transcendence. Thank you for connecting us through you, and albeit through your pain. Divide and conquer? Divide and yet love nonetheless even in the face of our seeming separation difference and change.
    Hmmm. Not so short or simple. But I am moved by your writing to write back. Words are like water and help us reach each other to quench our thirst for a return to oceanic union.

  2. Dear Ania,
    Your writing exposes a powerful recognition of your mind and body. When thoughts and feelings seem so extreme it is always a danger that we become surrounded by their impenetrable barriers. But, Ania, your writing is taking you closer to those ends and when you arrive you will see and hear them with your own good spirits. When you get there you may find that these brazen emotions are boundaries or borders, not barriers – you, my friend, are not one to wince at extremes. Your own character will guide you through.

  3. You are not alone in your feelings. I too feel like I live in those two worlds. I too long to feel truly happy for another day and yet mostly feel like I am yearing for an end to all this suffering and an end that we are all really headed for anyways.

  4. It is in the nature of duality that there be room for both sadness and joy, and of course a yearning for returning to union.

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